A Little Social Experiment
by whosafraidofvirginiawoolf
Summary: "My, my, that Bat has been in hiding for much too long...what does it take to make a Batman come out and play?" 16 ordinary citizens are chosen to take part in an experiment of a different kind. The one objective; stay alive as long as you can.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

_Summary: "My, my, that Bat has been in hiding for much too long...what does it take to make a Batman come out and play?" 16 ordinary citizens are chosen to take part in an experiment of a different kind. The one objective; stay alive as long as you can. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor do I claim to._

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3 months.

3 months it had been since Batman had last appeared. 1 month since the Joker made swift exit from Arkham and headed into the depths of the narrows. There have been rumoured sightings of both, all over Gotham, but its no one is truly to aware what to believe.

It seems the citizens of Gotham can begin to release the collective breath they were unaware they were holding. Banks and schools are beginning to be rebuilt. Petty crime begins to rise again but a few mundane robberies and mob dealings seem futile in comparison to the devastation they had previously suffered. It seems Gotham can relax again.

_For now._

Because unaware to them all, in the shady outskirts of the city, after careful planning, the stage has been set for the comeback of the century.

Now all he needs are the players...

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"Calm down May, no she doesn't know anything, I swear...don't fucking call me naive, she's my fucking wife! I'd know if something was up, so if she calls back..."

Robert Perske let the inane ramblings of his twenty something mistress pass him, working his mouth in impatience, by as he scrambled documents together on his desk. He was in the midst of a very important case; a wealthy woman had been accused of murdering her husband, having caught him making the beast with two backs with his younger mistress. Of course, the ironies of the case were not lost on him, but Robert assured himself he was not stupid enough to get caught. However, if this bitch kept yakking on like this...

"Look May, just calm down, alright. I'll come round later. I'm too busy to deal with this right now, OK? I'll speak to you after my meeting,"

God, everything was a fucking mess right now. He was trying to keep his head down and focus on the case but Lord knows he couldn't do it with all these women blabbering on around him. It was just like his father often said; "_Son, it's always a woman's fault_". And damn, was his old man ever right.

The little blue dial on his watch began to beep, indicating it was time for lunch. "Finally," he muttered to himself; he was going to go meet one of the senior partners for lunch down at a local restaurant, a man named Boris Sampson. The guy was alright, quite dull; he sometimes came when the him and the other men went on their regular strip club visits, but Robert could tell from his expression that he'd rather be some place a whole lot different. God knows why, strip clubs were perfect; no one ever asked questions and the women only ever opened the mouths to ask "So, what do you want?"

Still, he was technically his boss, and promotions were coming up, and like hell was he going to miss a subtle opportunity to sidle into his good books. He got ready to leave when suddenly there was an impertinent knock on the door.

"Now what?" Grumbled Robert. " Fucking secretary, letting every bum in at every goddamn hour of the day,"

Suddenly, the door burst open and a dark figure stood looming menacingly in the door way.

"Who the hell are you-" His words were cut off as he felt something pierce his neck, and Robert Perske collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor.

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So typical. After an 18 hour shift, just as Rose Harris could feel herself succumbing to delicious sleep, the obnoxious buzzing of her phone could be heard, viciously interrupting her slumber. The perpetrator had been her good friend Amy, who had sent a brief but important message.

"_Got some big news. Come over ASAP, its X"_

It couldn't be anything awful, as Amy would have rung her, or texted her the news, not insisted she go all the way over to the other side of town to meet her. _I bet her and Andrew are engaged_, she grumbled under her breath. As delightful news as that would be, it really would not be worth interrupting her well deserved sleep for.

As she reached the car park, her hands dug around in her handbag for her keys. Dammit, please say she hadn't left them upstairs. Brushing her annoying blonde fringe out of her eyes, she cursed out loud. Suddenly, out they fell, hitting the ground with a loud clang.

"Thank God," She muttered, as she swiftly bent down to pick them up. Suddenly, there was a rustling, and the last thing she saw was a cruel face in the darkness roughly shoving a bag over her head.

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Father O'Donald had stayed behind after mass, like he usually did. Today of all days, he required some quiet meditation, and thought, and where better to do that in the presence of his Lord. Kneeling, he placed his hands in prayer position and bowed his head silently. Oh sweet Gotham, he thought. I wonder what you must have done to deserve so much evil sweeping through your streets. Even through the darkest times, Father O'Donald had trusted and believed in his God, that eventually the light would break through the dark. However there were points when it seemed that evil in this world really was all consuming, that there was very little good left. He hated to think it but sometimes, anything he did seemed to act like little more than a band-aid.

The church was unusually quiet; it seemed his fellow priests had either left or departed for some fresh air. He could feel the harsh glares of the sun on his neck and wiped the sweat from his brow. There was an unusual quiet about; he supposed it was due to the fact that recently everyone had become accustomed to the sounds of police sirens and explosions ringing through the air.

_Dear Lord_, he prayed, _give us the strength to carry on in these dark times, with your guidance, as heaven knows, we need it now. _

The faint creaking of a door could be heard behind him but Father O' Donald was too deep in prayer to concern himself with whoever had just joined him.

_And lead us not into temptation..._

The sound of footsteps got slowly and slowly louder.

_...but deliver us from evil..._

Suddenly they stopped.

_...for thine is the kingdom..._

Roughly, without warning, large calloused hands placed themselves under his arms and hauled him without mercy to his feet, while another man quickly placed a black cotton bag over his head, leaving him completely without sight.

..._the power and the glory..._

The hands on his arms didn't remove themselves, instead they dragged him forcefully across the floor, their pace so quick his stumbling feet couldn't keep him, their grip so tight that his protests seemed to have no affect whatsoever.

_...forever and ever..._

He had no idea what happened as the brutal hands continued to pull, before they came to a sudden halt, and he could feel his body being hauled into a large van of some sort. He could smell the pungent exhaust fumes, even through the thick bag, and his hands fell on some sort of seat, which he was then roughly forced onto.

"Stay there," Came a gruff, abrasive voice in the darkness, as tight, binding handcuffs were placed on his wrists. "Don't make any sort of shit, or there'll be trouble,"

Those were the last words he heard as the van doors were slammed shut and a foot was placed on the exhaust.

_...Amen. _

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Alicia Gilbert had no idea what had happened; it was all such a blur that it was difficult to distinguish one moment from another.

The last clear memory she had was finding a quiet space to have a quick cigarette before the cameras resumed rolling, when all of a sudden someone had grabbed her from behind, placed a filthy bag over her head and shoved her in the back of this now moving van. She had tried to keep her initial thoughts light-hearted; maybe this was just a planned surprise, it had been her birthday two weeks ago, maybe her friends had waited until she least expected it to throw her a surprise party. But she knew she was just fooling herself. The way the man had grabbed her was so rough and so forceful, and how she had been shoved about indicated this wasn't initiated by someone who liked her very much. However she knew how to keep herself calm, not let herself descend into hysteria. Being a news correspondant in Gotham meant she had seen things far worse than this; she was one of the first on the scene when Brian Douglas's corpse was dangled off the side of the Wayne Building, and had seen first hand the destruction reaped upon Gotham by the Joker. She could handle whoever was pulling this little stunt.

Besides, she could also hear over the hum of the car, quite a lot of heavy breathing around her in the van, indicating she wasn't alone, and that everyone around her was just as terrified as her. Suddenly, a hoarse voice broke through the unnerving silence, and it took her a second to realize it was coming from the man next to her.

"What's happening-"

"Be quiet you piece of shit!" He was immediately cut off by an angry voice from the front of the van and no one dared open their mouth to respond with questions. To the other side of Alicia, she could faintly hear gentle muffled sobs, and in response, gently moved her handcuffed hand so it tightly clutched the hand next to hers. The other hand responded with a gentle squeeze and the two people, previous to this bizarre situation complete strangers, sat there silently, hand in hand, listening to the gentle buzzing of the van's engine, which filled the air.

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Suddenly the van came to a stop, and everyone inside lurched forward, desperately clutching anything or anyone they could find for support. The loud click of the opening of the van doors could be heard and, after what felt like an extremely long time in darkness, light began to seep through the holes in their sacks.

"Alright, everyone do as their told and no one'll get hurt, ok?"

The man spoke again. A few nods could be made out from underneath the black masks, but his fellow men had already started hauling the various citizens out of the van, grabbing them roughly by the arm, not really caring if they stumbled or fell, and dragging them along the broken tarmac. Rose could hear the sound of tumbling footsteps all around her, even a few cries as people couldn't contain their shock and how scared they were anymore. She could feel bruises forming on her arms as whoever was holding her tightened their grip, as she stumbled clumsily up some stairs. God knows where they were now. The knot in her stomach tightened, and her voice felt so hoarse that she couldn't have cried out or told the man to be a bit gentler even if she had wanted to. Suddenly she was aware of a door being opened and being pushed through it, into a building of some sort she supposed. The man kept his steady grip on her arm, and she began to feel slightly nauseous from the disgusting smell of cigarettes, booze and cheap gasoline reeking from every pore in the man's body. That most certainly was not a good sign. She struggled against the handcuffs that bit tightly into her wrists but realized it was no use. They were on good and tight.

Suddenly she felt two rough hands push her over and she fell to the floor, landing slap bang on her knees. Before she could even yell out in pain, the bag was ripped from over her head and her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light. She was in a large, dank room, with walls that appeared to once have been painted orange but now had faded to a sickly apricot colour. Overall it had the feeling of a cheap motel, and it was heavy with the smell of sweat and gasoline. There were no windows in this huge room, so harsh lights had been put overheard, illuminating everything and everyone in a sort of terrifying glow.

Now that her eyes were fully focused, she could see more people being shoved into the room, while others sat nervously on the floor, as the men who had brought them here, stood behind them, somewhat menacingly. Everyone in here looked just as terrified as she was; there were people of all ages. A young woman, who couldn't have been much older than her, sat cradling her head in the corner, tears streaming down her face. Next to her sat a woman she recognized from TV, Alicia Gilbert, who reported for Gotham Night. While her face held a stoic expression, Rose noticed Alicia's left hand was trembling slightly. On the other side of her was a man who was clearly a priest, whose dazed expression was impossible to read, and next to him were two men, who were clearly high paid city workers, judging by their tailored suits and Rolex watches. One was sweating profusely, while the other rubbed his neck tenderly, blinking his eyes as if he had just been woken from sleep.

All in all there were 13 people in the room, however a few more were still being brought in. Suddenly, there was a collective intake of breath as the last person was shoved forcefully in; _a child_. A girl, to be precise, and no older than 11, estimated Father McDonald. Her big green eyes watered, with big red rings around her eyes from where she had been crying. Her frail, skinny body trembled from shock, and instead of handcuffs her wrists had been bound with rope, presumably as there had been no handcuffs that fit her tiny wrists. As much as he tried to contain his anger, he couldn't. _What kind of person abducts an 11 year old_, he thought, _what kind of inhumane person_.

The young girl brought the total to 16, and the door was shut with a slam by the last kidnapper, who went and stood tentatively behind Rose. No one spoke; no one dared. The only noise was a few people who had taken to crying as silently as they could. All of a sudden, the lights flickered, and a few cut out, as footsteps could be heard approaching the room from the opposite side. Then a voice was heard that was well known to all of them.

"Tonight, ladies and gentleman, you are the lucky contestants to take part in what I call, a little social experiment..."

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	2. Chapter 2: Civilization Will Not Last

"_...social experiment_,"

His voice was slightly deeper than it had been on the TV, but still just as twisted and menacing as it had been previously. It was the kind of a voice that cut like a knife, sending sweat to your brow and bile rising up your throat. It was still high pitched, almost like a giggle, but there was nothing pleasant about it. Nothing at all.

Alicia had once seen the Joker from far away, as he was entering court awaiting to be tried (where he was later declared criminally insane), but nothing prepared her for seeing him in the flesh. The bright lights illuminated every little feature, every little crevice on his face; the whole thing was so grotesque, so over-exaggerated that she didn't know, in her delirious state, to laugh or cry. Quickly glancing at those around her, she could see fear painted on all of their faces. A few men had tried to gather together their resolve and try to muster a sense of bravery, but this new revelation had just sent them spiralling back down again. No one attempted to move, or bolt; the other men stood steadfast in the door way, holding their weapons threateningly.

_There's no way we're getting out of here_, Alicia thought miserably. She had seen what had happened to various hostages he had taken previously; their mangled bodies now lay cold in the morgue, with their skin sometimes so battered that identification had been near impossible. This was different however. The Joker had only taken a few hostages before, usually one or two at a time, and all of them were to prove a point. 16 people? That was far too many to fit the usual scenario. Also, these were people from all walks of life; varying from old men to a young child, and none of them very recognizable faces. Well, apart from Alicia herself, there were 2 other people she recognized; one was Senator Trudy Steadman, a middle aged politician, well known in Gotham for campaigning heavily to reinstate the death penalty in the case of the Joker. (_Well, she's going to last long_, she thought.) The other was a man named Richard Habberley; one of her colleagues at the station had previously interviewed him. He was one of the leading psychologists at Arkham Asylum, personal friend of Jeremiah Arkham himself. Whether he had actually attempted to treat the Joker during his brief stint at Arkham, Alicia was unaware of. All she knew was the Joker had gone through many psychologists, toying with their minds like a cat does with a mouse, until its gets bored and disposes of it.

So there were 2 people he might know personally. Maybe three, if Alicia counted herself. What on earth was the point of all these other people? What sick, twisted point was he trying to prove? She wouldn't have to wait fairly long to find out. The Joker wetted his lips before proceeding to speak again.

"So it seems to me that old Batsy has been in hiding for far too long," There was that voice again, so terrifying yet also seemed to be completely calm. "...and you know what's the best way to lure a _Batman_ out?"

Again he was met with just the sound of his lips smacked together, his face contorting in a mixture of annoyance and delight in the blatant fear of those around him. Like a cross between a cat that got the cream, but decided he didn't really want the cream after all.

"Why you simply appeal to that misplaced sense of justice and honour in him. Hit him where it truly hurts. And what better way to do that than put ordinary, innocent citizens in, ah, harm's way..."

A soft breeze floated across the room, giving it a certain chill, not helping the goosebumps all them of them most certainly already had. Rose gulped; the man across from her made a desperate praying motion with his hands. They were, to crudely put it, _fucked_. If this was an elaborate ploy to bring forth the Batman, well, then in her mind they were all just dead men walking. The Joker took no notice, and continued with his speech, gesticulating strongly with his hands, as if he were a pastor preaching to the choir

"So you see, _ladies_ and _gentlemen_, that is why you are here today. To undergo a small..ah, trial shall we say. There are 16 of you here, as you may well have notice_d_, and hopefully soon the rest of Gotham will be well informed of our little _gathering_. And hopefully, little Batsy will be too, hmm? Then some, maybe most of you, will be able to return to your little lives and families completely...unharmed,"

To Robert, everything is blurred and spinning and he's not sure if he's even processing the noises the clown's making. All he can do is try to think of the most mundane things he can in a pathetic attempt to still his beating heart. _Someone had better let Michelle know I won't be home for dinner_. _Maybe she's put on a nice roast, as it is Friday. Would be a shame to see it wasted. _

"But enough of that!" The menacing clown cackled, in a voice that seemed to be both fire and ice at the same time, waving his hand dismissively. "I think we should take this opportunity to uh, _introduce_ ourselves to the good people of Gotham. I'm sure they've, ah, missed me quite a bit! So we're going to put on a little show for them, a 'getting to know you' sort of thing"

Suddenly each hostage could feel themselves being hauled up once more, this time with extra force, being brought forward to a different room, this one a lot darker and without any main source of light, just a lone lightbulb dangling down in the centre. There were 16 chairs, placed in one straight line, and in front of them was a beaten up old camcorder and a tripod, covered in tiny flecks of blood. The thought of where that came from made vomit rise up in Alicia's throat. But apart from that the room was relatively clean, suggesting to her that this was not the Joker's regular hide-out, but somewhere newly visited. A pair of hands on her back make her stumble awkwardly onto one of the chairs and she tries to pretend her breathing isn't so rough and ragged. Tries desperately to pretend that this will all turn out well. (_Though, if its the Joker, there's never a chance of a happy ending there is there? Even if you don't immediately die from his first twisted plan, he can suddenly snap and just put a bullet in your brain for no reason at all_)

The men bound them tightly to the chairs, with thick rope, while their hands remained handcuffed. Now all 16 of them were in the chairs, enchained to them, with the young girl sitting at the very end of them all, next to the priest. Rose can see them out of the corner of her eye, the young girl retreating further and further into her naive state of mind, her small mouth is moving slightly, as if she is talking to herself, and her hands are tugging at the end of her pink t-shirt, as if her fingers were clinging on for dear life. She could feel her heart-breaking as Rose looked at her; she was so small, so fragile, in a situation which a young child should never have to be in. Something about a grown man being able to do this to her child made her blood boil. She knew the Joker had long crossed the lines of sanity but to her, this was a new low, even for him.

The Joker followed his goons into the room, where all eyes were fearfully upon him. His gloved hands pressed the button on the camera and, as his henchmen took their places by the door, the "show" began.

"Afternoon Gotham! Guess who?"

It was as if, in front of the camera, he became more alive than he was before. Alicia watched, fascinated (after all, she was a journalist); this was a man she, and the rest of her team had been covering for months, and here she was, getting to see him, _in action_. The fact her life was hanging in the balance, in those few moments, suddenly seemed insignificant and pointless and she just didn't care. But then her mind snapped itself back to reality and she realized she wasn't watching from behind a screen anymore. This was happening right here, right now, in front of her very eyes, and every person in Gotham would soon be watching this very tape. Suddenly, he seemed to slap his forehead in a mocking way, and exclaimed scornfully:

"I'm sorry! I forgot to introduce all my wonderful guests; say hello ladies and gentlemen," He gingerly picked up the camera and panned it along the line of hostages. He stopped at the start of the line, and focused on the man sitting there, grabbing his face forcefully and twisting it to face the camera directly.

"All such..._civilized_ people, hmm? Here we have a lawyer," The man whose face he was holding blanched at his words. The Joker knew who he was. The Joker knew who they _all_ were.

"Then we have a psychologist," He turned the camera to face Dr. Habberley before moving it down the line. "...Then a journalist here, Alicia Gilbert," (_Oh my God, he knows my name.)_

"Now a policeman, we have two of those," He indicated the two men sitting side by side to each other; one was a balding, quite overweight middle aged, fair skinned man, with sweat dripping down his forehead, and next to him, a man of roughly the same age, with darker skin and was much leaner. "Why two, you ask?" The sheer delight in his voice was evident. Rose's stomach turned at just how much fun he was having, slowly tormenting all of them.

"Well, we have two, as these are two very different sorts of policeman. Both have served for Gotham's lovely police force for 20 years, but one's been on the mob's payroll for 12 of them. Can you guess which one?" The Joker licked his lips as the two men turned to stare at each other accusingly, neither willing to come forward as the crooked one. (_Oh this is just too easy, thought the Joker happily_)

"Then we have a _mother_," He gripped the head of a 40 year old woman, who stared at him in pure horror before he roughly shoved her away and moved on to the mousy young woman sitting nervously next to her. "...and a teacher,"

Rose couldn't hide her disgust at what this meant. They all had been _chosen_ for this; they weren't random members of the public who just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. No, because of their professions, they were all brought here; each person represented a different section of society, from public servant to priest to mother to child. There was a reason each person was here. She was pulled out of thought as she realized the Joker was right next to her; so close that if she had moved her fingers slightly forward, they would have brushed the pocket of his dirty purple coat. It _terrified_ her.

"Then the producer of Gotham Breakfast TV, Fred McAlister, and next to him we have, a _nurse_," His gloved fingers pushed Rose's fringe pack, tilting her head painfully up so that her eyes stared directly into his. And all she saw was _black_. Such darkness, like you could see all hell's fire in one small space. It was the strangest sensation she had ever felt, and her whole body started shivering, as if she had suddenly gone very cold. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment longer before they moved to the man next to her and her senses came flooding back to her and she let out the breath she hadn't even known she was holding. She took it all back. Before, she was just scared. Now she _truly_ was terrified. But there was no time to linger, the Joker was continuously moving down the line.

"Now a judge," he flicked the man next to her. "And a banker next to him, isn't that sweet, and a student next to him," A wail emerged from the mouth of the lanky ginger haired boy he was pointing to. "And then, a _society_ girl, Miss Darcy Calhoun"

Next to him was an extremely attractive woman, appearing to be in her mid-twenties. Alicia was surprised she hadn't recognized her, but then again, she wasn't one for gossip magazines. Darcy Calhoun regularly featured in them, her father owning the biggest hotel chain in Gotham, a girl who would turn up to an envelope opening, and rumoured former flame of Bruce Wayne (_But then again, he has so many of them_). With large brown eyes framed by glistening copper hair extensions, and with some rather _large_ breasts, she was stunning in a very obvious way. Plus, Alicia was skeptical as to how much of it was really all that natural.

"..And next to her we have a _politician_," Now he pointed at Trudy Steadman, who visibly flinched as he did so. "Pleased to see me Mrs. Steadman? After all, if you had your way, I wouldn't even _be_ here, and how uh, _disappointing_ would that be"

Now venom was really emerging in his tone. "...And, saving the best for last, a _holy man_..._,_"

The camera focused in on Father O'Donald extensively, for a much longer period of time than anyone else, as if to taunt the watching public that the Joker truly had no boundaries whatsoever.

"And...a child," The last word came out rather like a question, as if the Joker himself were asking how anyone could do such a thing. "Her name is Sydney, say hello Sydney! Show us all your pretty smile..." Sydney's eyes glossed over, as if she were retreating further and further from reality. Her blonde hair was tangled in her face; she even had freckles smattered across her nose. Rose couldn't help but wonder if the Joker had deliberately picked the most innocent looking child possible, just for kicks.

"But of course there is one absentee, a man of the _rodent_ kind...he's a bit tardy to the party, shall we say," He chuckled malevolently. "So me and my friendsss are getting a bit depressed over here, and who _knows_ what might happen,"

The Joker smacked his lips, letting his words settle before continuing. "So let me put it in _simpler_ terms; the Batman can come save these 'innocent' people," The Joker flashed the camera to the hostages once more before returning it closely to his face. "...or I'm going to see how far I can push these civilized citizens, one by one, until none of them are left,"

Breaths got caught in throats, hands were clutched tightly together, tears began to fall as people realized the consequences. But the Joker wouldn't allow them to dwell on it as he began to speak again.

"And what better time than the present, hmm? So let's see, which of you sweet and innocent people will be the first to die..." the Joker declared, putting on a mock thoughtful expression."...Let's do this the fairest way, shall we? Eeni Meeni Mini mo..."

It took a moment for them to realize what he was doing. Suddenly time seemed to slow, movements became blurred, as they understood someone was about to die. (_Due to Eeny Meeni Mini Mo; well, he always said chaos was fai_r)

"...mini mo," Joker, in a flash removed a gun from the inside coat pocket before his finger settled on someone. _The banker_. The man had only a second to react, and out of his mouth emerged such an animal like noise the likes of which none of them had ever heard previously, before the gun went off and blood pooled onto the floor, while the mangled body of the banker remained upright in the chair, his face still contorted in a terrified expression.

Now, all the emotions many of them had been holding in were let loose. People screamed, people cried, some began to shake violently; the student who had been sitting next to him threw up at the sight of the bloody corpse next to him. The Joker, as if suddenly remembering the camera was still on, turned round and walked towards it.

"Like I've said before, I'm a man of my _word_!"

His gloved hand pressed the 'off' button and, dismantling the camcorder, handed it to one of his nearby goons.

"Make sure that gets to Gotham Tonight prompto, with first class delivery. Can't keep the public waiting!" The other man merely nodded, and swiftly exited, holding the camcorder in his left hand, which was now also flecked with the blood of the banker, along with some of the Joker's other victims.

"Escort them to their, uh, _rooms_," The Joker ordered the remaining men, before bowing mockingly to the hostages. "Now, I'm afraid I must bid you adieu. See you in the morning! If some of you ah, make it that long..." His tongue traced the edge of his scars as the corner of his lips turned upright, in a bright, menacing smile, unlike any other.

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The remaining hostages were untied and escorted out of the room while some henchmen remained behind and cleared up what was left of the banker. The corridors of wherever they were were dark and dingy; the place felt completely devoid of life. When they reached the 'bedrooms', women were escorted into one, while the men went into the other. Well, 'bedroom' was a loose term. More like a dark, windowless room with 7 dirty mattresses on the floor in the women's case. The goons declared that the bucket in the corner was the 'bathroom' and they'd get a shower in a couple of days if they wre still here.

All the women huddled around Sydney on the bed, who Rose suspected was having a panic attack. All the blankets in the room were donated to her, to help Sydney sleep; it seemed, when a child was involved, you cared less around your own life. The only sound in the room was that of the door being bolted and locked shut. No one wanted to speak, either due to emotional weariness of that their voice was just too hoarse to speak. Each woman silently crept onto an individual mattress, not even changing their clothes, and tried to sleep, but found many of them couldn't, and those that could found that their dreams were infected with images of death, blood, and the malevolent smile of the Joker himself.

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	3. Chapter 3:  Heavy Is The Crown

**Chapter 3 - Heavy Is The Crown**

The men's room was no different from the women's, apart from the fact it was ever so slightly more crowded due to the presence of one more person. The rooms were dank, mould could be seen forming in the corners, and no one was truly able to sleep, drunk with fear at what might happen tomorrow. Robert had never been a religious man, but he spent the whole night praying desperately that Batman might make an appearance, that the Joker might truly be a 'man of his word', and while he was distracted by the presence of the vigilante he would just let all of them go. But no once could predict what the Joker might do; he could still put a bullet in all of their brains, as was the fate of that poor banker, just to spite the Batman, or mess with his mind.

He still didn't know the names of the other men in this room, bar the psychologist Dr. Habberley and the priest who had introduced himself to the other men as Father McDonald. Briefly, he glanced over at the 2 policemen, who ironically had chosen 2 mattresses next to each other. Was one really 'corrupt'? Or was this another mindgame of the Joker's to make them all begin to suspect each other? Being a lawyer, he had spent a lot of time trying to distinguish possible rational motives, but with the Joker, nothing was ever rational, was it? The young student was still in shock from what he had seen earlier, he had spent much of the night clasping his knees tightly to his chest, rocking himself back and forth and muttering inane words under his breath. No one dared tell him to be quiet so the rest could sleep; partially because they couldn't bring themselves to, and also because no one expected to sleep that evening, so the quiet flow of words from the boy's mouth provided a welcome distraction. There was very little hope in either room (_As what use is hope when the Joker is your captor_), and Alicia, looking down at her watch, estimated that they had been locked in these rooms at about 8:30, while their minds were still wide awake. She knew there was no chance of her falling asleep; she simply watched the seconds tick by on her watch, trying to prevent her imagination from running wild as to what the Joker might to do to them. Because with the Joker, anything was possible.

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"Commissioner...you have to see this. Gotham Tonight received this ten minutes ago, they're planning on showing it on the 10 o'clock news. Its...not good,"

From the tone in the young lieutenant's voice, Gordon knew their could only be one man he was referring to. And when the man had tentatively placed the brown package the video had arrived in on his desk, with the red scrawling words on the front 'FoR gOThAm TOnIGhT', he didn't know whether to laugh at his foolishness or just cry. One month. For one month, he, and the rest of Gotham, had begun to naively feel they were safe. Plans were even put into motion to start rebuilding some of the major buildings, as no one previously had been willing to spend money on something which would inevitably be blown up once more. But with the Joker gone...it was as if Gotham started breathing again, as if the choking hold on them had loosened. Seems now all they had been doing was catching their breath while he had been sneaking up from behind, having let go only to perform a surprise attack.

Sometimes it saddened Gordon just how clever the Joker was; not only because he always seemed to be one step ahead of them, easily predicting every move the GPD might make, like a talented chess player, but he was just so clever, and so young as well, and Gordon often wondered how brilliant he might have become, and he had not been born into the life he was and set down the path of events that would lead to him becoming the Joker. Because despite all the reports he had had from _psychologists_ and _psycho-analysists_ and _psychiatrists_ and god knows what other men had passed through Arkham's door, who all told Gordon that the Joker had most likely been 'a monster' since birth, he was inclined to believe differently. They just wanted to think that they were safe; that a person who had once been sane could cause so much mayhem, and that his insanity hadn't been caused by other ordinary people. (_Maybe people like them_)

And who's to say it was insanity? Because Gordon thought that the Joker most probably clearly knew the difference between right and wrong.

He just didn't give a damn about it.

His thoughts were diverted as he began to watch the clown on the tape. There were people behind him, strapped to chairs, fear plastered all over their faces. _Hostages_. Jesus Christ. Gordon along with the rest of his colleagues watched with bated breath, as more officers entered the room, having heard they had received a new Joker tape. The Joker's voice streaming from the tape was the only audible sound in the room. A few men flinched when the Joker shot the man point blank on camera, but to be frank, they had seen far worse from him. The, banker was it, should consider himself lucky; his death was short and immediate. Many others hadn't been so fortunate. And Gordon had the tapes to prove it.

As the video finished, no one spoke, but just stared expectantly at the commissioner with blank eyes, wandering what to do next, but knowing deep down there was nothing they truly could do.

"Sir?" A brave young man who had been hovering at the back, whom Gordon recognized a few seconds later as Sergeant Holmes, was the first to speak. "What should we do?"

"Make sure first and foremost all the families have been informed; we have an hour until Gotham Tonight is planning to air this and we don't want them to learn about this through the television. And get me Lassiter on the line, we're going to need to start sending search parties to the Narrows, as no doubt he's holding them there somewhere,"

"But, commissioner..."

"What?"

"What...about Batman?"

"Its up to Batman to come out if he's ready," Gordon sighed. "For now, all we can do is support the families, and hope they're found as quickly as possible,"

It was silently acknowledged though, that the possibility of the police finding these hostages was about nil. The only person they could pin their hope on now was a disgraced vigilante who hadn't been seen in months. Gordon watched as his men went about their duties, with little enthusiasm and with heavy hearts, feeling the burden weighing down hardest upon him.

()()(()(()((

Rose had managed to cling onto sleep for a few hours (It wasn't a matter of principle, her body simply could not cope any longer and shut down) before a frightening banging was heard, rousing all the females in the room. The young girl tightened her duvet cover around her as the woman next to her comfortingly placed her arms around her.

"Get up!" A goon's voice could be heard outside the door before it was slammed open suddenly. 2 more came in, a pile of tangled clothes in their hands, which were unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

"Put these on. We'll come back in 5 minutes, and you better be ready," The two gruff men turned to leave when a startled voice cried out from the back.

"Wait!"

The two men turned around, clearly displeased, as did the rest of the women to see who had spoken. It was the young teacher, who was visibly shaking at the fact she was conversing with these men, intimidated by the guns looming menacingly in their pockets, and her voice broke when she tried to speak again. It now emerged as some sort of high pitched squeal, making her cheeks burn even more.

"R-r-ready for what, exactly?" Her voice was became so high towards the end it came out more as a squeak than distinguishable words. The two henchmen looked at each other, smirking, as if sharing a private joke that no one else was in on, and from the expressions on the men's faces every single woman in the room knew that it was not pleasant news.

"Oh, you'll see," One teased while the other chuckled to himself, as they turned and stalked out the room, slamming the door once again behind them, causing the women to jump.

"At least they're not standing in and watching," Grumbled Alicia, before heading down towards the pile of clothes.

"Wait, are you actually going to get changed?" The mother asked timidly, looking at the clothes as if they might be infected. "Who knows where those clothes have been,"

"Look," Alicia replied, bringing her top above her head. "I've reported hostage situations before; I'm no expert on them but I think if we shut up and do as we're told, we're going to have a much better chance of getting out of here,"

Rose nodded promptly, joining Alicia to fish among the clothing to find something her size. It was fairly regular clothing; jeans, t-shirt, piles of underwear and a few bras, and from the smell of them they had recently been washed. However none of them wanted to guess from whom the clothes originally came from; the tears and rips on some of the items suggested that they most certainly were not store bought.

"I am _not_ wearing those...things," Darcy's eyes widened at the torn pair of cotton trousers Rose had just pulled on, stepping back as if the clothes might almost bite her.

"Look its either this, or get God knows what all over your nice new clothing," Alicia snapped. "What is that, Dolce and Gabbana? Do you really want to get that covered in blood?"

Darcy drew a sharp breath at Alicia's blunt words, but consented regardless, hesitantly pulling down the top of her skirt. Rose rummaged around in the pile, before bringing out some blue pants and a jumper.

"Here, these don't look too bad," Rose murmured, throwing them at Darcy. "Try them on,"

Darcy wrinkled her nose in disgust but quickly slipped the pants on, giving a small look of thanks to Rose. Soon enough, all the other women in the room, including young Sydney who ended up in clothes far too big for her as there appeared to be no children's clothing in the pile, joined in and got changed, all far more concerned with saving their own life as opposed to what they might look like.

Sure enough, on the dot, 5 minutes later the two men barged through the door once more, luckily by this point all the women had changed and were standing there, waiting to be led to wherever they were going. Behind the two original goons stood 4 more, who stood outside the door, guns in their hands, as the original 2 men entered once more.

"Alright, everyone in single file! Move it, come on, we ain't got all day. Alright follow us, one behind the other, no funny business," As if to reinforce this, he waved his gun in the air, pushing Rose in the shoulder, forcing her to move forward. Everyone quickly followed suit, ushering themselves down the corridor, trying to ignore the intimidating guns in the henchmen's hands.

God knows what was going to happen now.

()()()()()()()()()()

_AN: My apologies this is so brief and with very little action, it was written on a bit of a whim and I felt it was necessary to flesh out the characters a little bit more, and introduce the wonderful Gordon before I continued. Don't worry, there will be a lot of Joker dialogue in the next chapter, I promise! _


	4. Chapter 4: Run Rabbit Run

**Chapter 4 - Run Rabbit Run.**

_Run rabbit - run rabbit - Run! Run! Run!_  
><em>Run rabbit - run rabbit - Run! Run! Run!<em>  
><em>Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!<em>  
><em>Goes the farmer's gun. <em>

They were like sheep.

That was the only adequate way Rose could describe it. Like sheep being led to slaughter, not knowing where they were going, but knowing what awaited them when they got there. The fear felt among all the hostages was so strong, you could almost taste it and smell it in the air, and all the while, they knew their captor would be revelling in this. Her eyes were stinging; according to her watch it was only 7:40, and her whole body ached with tiredness. Despite the fact she had tentatively managed to catch some sleep last night, it hadn't been nearly enough; now she felt like her feet might buckle underneath her at any second and the smell of disinfectant reeked from the clothes they had been ordered to put on. It was so pungent it felt like the smell was burning through her nostrils. She was amazed at how she was holding it together at this point; obviously her fear of death outweighed her body's need for sleep. Being a nurse, she dealt with death frequently, in various different forms. From older citizens, who had lived their lives, to newborn infants, who hadn't even had the chance to open their eyes and see the wonder in the world.

Rose had even dealt with a few of the Joker's victims before; mostly the ones who had been badly burned in one of the Joker's many explosions or on rare occasions, citizens who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been shot by the Joker or his men.

They rarely survived.

But she had never seen it _firsthand_. What had happened yesterday...was unlike anything she had ever dealt with before. This was death like she had never seen it before. Luckily, being a nurse, she didn't entertain any notions that death was glorious or peaceful. Because death was never glorious; it was messy, it was sad and the biggest realization that came with death was that life went on. Time didn't slow down or speed up, nor did death bring some great epiphany or realization about life's meaning. All that happened was for a moment someone was there, the next moment they weren't. And then life just went on. And that's precisely what happened yesterday. She had never seen death so _violent_ before, heck, she may have dealt with shooting victims but she'd never actually seen someone get shot before. But as soon as it was over, the harsh barrier she had put up upon becoming a doctor so as not to let death affect her kicked in. Plus, Rose doubted that would be the last time they saw a corpse during, what did he call it, this _experiment_.

Instead of being led into another room of the building, they were taken outside and blindfolded once more, before being shoved back into the very same vans that had brought them there, though this time with the added luxury of non bound wrists. Obviously the men trusted that none of them was about to make a sudden break for freedom, due to the fact their fear had almost paralyzed their limbs, but Rose was pretty sure, from the smell of him, that one of the goons had joined them in the back of the van just to make sure. The vehicle bumped and moved along, no words being said, no mention as to where they were going or where the Joker might be (_not that they really wanted to know; out of sight, out of mind_) but once again, silence was the only true thing in the van. Rose briefly thought of Sydney; the poor girl had been placed in one of the other vans, and must have been scared out of her mind. This was far much for an 11 year old girl to cope with.

Opposite her sat Trudy Steadman, who was shaking so much she was sure the two men next to her could feel the vibrations. So this is what you got for being a decent person was it? Being abducted and used as bait by a psychopathic clown? If Gotham had only _listened_ to her when they had the chance. The madman deserved to be where he put so many others (_in the grave_). But no, apparently that's _inhumane_ and 'sinking down to his level'. Bullshit. If getting rid of that pest meant sinking down to his level, she would gladly get her hands dirty; unlike those pansies higher up, who actually thought that '_rehabilitation_' and '_treatment_' could actually help him. Well, whether they actually truly thought that or not was debatable; there was no possible way the clown could ever reenter society and they knew it. So they were just going to keep him locked up for the rest of his life at the expense of the taxpayer, but as if there were any walls that could keep him in. The only proper way to stop the Joker's spree of chaos was to put a bullet through his brain. (_And she'd gladly be the one to do it_) She was dedicated to her job; she had married 15 years ago, to a fellow politics student Matthew Steadman, whose name she took, but that marriage was long over. Matthew now spent more time with his pretty Chinese secretary than he did her. The only reason they had resolved to stay together was to save face publicly; Trudy was up for re-election in 6 months and a divorce might just ruin everything. They had never had any children, both of them far too career orientated, but now, sitting blindfolded in that silent van, a part of Trudy began to lament the fact that she hadn't; lament the fact that there wasn't really anyone there to truly miss her.

No one spoke a word as the van pulled up to an undisclosed location, though there were a few yelps of pain as everyone was roughly grabbed from the van and the blindfold yanked off of them. The sun came streaming harshly into their eyes but there was no time to readjust to the sudden light as they were yanked forward into an abandoned office of some sorts. I_ bet we're in the Narrows_, snorted Alicia, _fucking typical_. Suddenly their silence was broken as the mousy teacher behind her, who had just been holding her nerve together on the ride here, couldn't take it anymore. A loud, animal-like sob escaped from her chest as she broke free from her captor and began to run. (_Foolish girl, you won't get far_) And of course she didn't; within 10 seconds another goon had tackled her roughly to the ground, pushing her face into the dirt.

"Shut up!," The henchman yelled, not caring an iota about the pain he was causing her as her body wracked with sobs. "You're gonna pay for that, oh you're gonna pay,"

Within a minute he had hauled her back to her feet and when that didn't cease her loud howling, an ear splittering crack was heard as he slapped her. The girl was stunned; Alicia winced. She had been slapped before, plenty of times, but the pure shock and terror on this girl's face as she clutched her red cheek suggested the worst she had ever gotten before was a chinese burn. It worked though, as the teacher swiftly fell silent, though more tears streamed down her face. In Alicia's mind though, she was lucky; had this been any other hostage situation, the goon would have shot her without a moment's hesitation. But now she supposed that the Joker had issued strict orders that they were all to be kept alive. (_For now_)

There was no heating on in the building, and the cold pierced through the very thin clothes they had been given to wear. But that was the least of their problems; upon entering the hallway of the building, they were greeted with a truly frightening sight; the smiling face of the Joker.

"Good _morning_, everyone," Rose had to give him credit for the fact that he made an ordinary greeting sound truly sinister. It sent shivers down her spine. "I trust we all, uh, slept well?"

A few faces nodded, eager not to displease the madman standing there swinging a knife in his hands, but most of them stood still, paralyzed with fear.

"_Good_!" He cried, in a faux sincere way, waving his hands around in exaggerated gestures. "Now, as I'm sure you've all correctly guessed, that has been, ah, no sign of the _Batman_,"

That last word rolled off his tongue as if he were made to say it. But before any of them could begin to dwell on his words, he continued on.

"So! We're going to have a little challenge, hmm, won't that be nice?" He turned to one of the desks next to him and picked up what looked like a white flag, though this one had been partially mutilated, with many 'HahahHAs' written all over in it in smudged black pen and a big smile in the middle of it drawn in what appeared to be red lipstick. (_Only the Joker_, thought Alicia bitterly) "Now, there are 14 of these spread all around this building-" He waved his arm around to emphasize the size "-placed in various different points across the site. Now you're task is to find one of these and bring it back here, to this spot, by, uh, lets say 8:30. If you get back here, flag in hand by 8:30, you may keep your life. But if you don't find one of these, or miss the deadline, welllll...let's just say it won't be, uh, pleasant,"

He gave a sudden howl, startling them all, as if he was sharing some inside joke with himself. But none of them missed the obvious implications; there were 16 of them here, _and only 14 white flags_.

"But the rest is up to you! There are no rules. I don't care how you get the flag, as long as you bring it back to me, before the, ah _deadline_. So if you find one, hold on to it tight, becausr the person next to you might not be so...noble,"

Each one of them glanced around at each other, some with accusing looks. Surely none of them would be so barbaric as to put their life over someone elses? _Who knew_.

"Though I wouldn't uh, _hang around_ if I were you as you only have, let's see," He looked up at a clock at the side. "50 minutes,"

As if a shot had just gotten enough to signal the beginning of a race, each person shot up, looking round to check they weren't being followed by any particular individual and raced up stairs and down corridors, to different bits of the building, all the while hearing manic laughter as they desperately began to search.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_So this is how he gets his kicks_, thought Rose bitterly, as she turned another corner. Pitting them against each other, like gladiators in a ring, all for his entertainment. She kept a steady eye on her watch as she paced quickly; 10 minutes had already passed and she was sure she hadn't even gotten through the first floor of the building. Around her she could hear rushed footsteps, as people hastily ran through the halls, trying to find these damned flags. 2 minutes ago, she had met the 'mother', as the Joker had aptly named her, who was helping Sydney round to find a flag. Because Sydney was the one true exception. No one would dare value their life over a child's would they? Rose admired the mother's courage; doing this meant it was less likely she could find a flag, but that was a sacrifice that had to be made. Rose wondered if she would have been willing to make it.

All the rooms of this building started to merge together, and resemble one. It had clearly been an office beforehand, with boxes of files stacked high in certain rooms and desks and chairs in others, but by the filth, had been abandoned for a long time. All the windows were bordered shut; she had tried to pry a few open, thinking maybe she could slip out a window at the back and run, but no such luck. Obviously the Joker had pre-planned this and taken every possible precaution. So, after checking 2 windows, Rose hadn't even bothered anymore. The Joker may me mad, but genius was akin to madness, and she was sure the Joker was probably a damn lot smarter than her. And God knows, he probably had hidden cameras in all sorts of places, just to get his pleasure from their pain. _Ugh, what a mad man_. Wandering round, Rose couldn't tell which room she had been in and which she hadn't. Curse her muddled brain! If only she wasn't so damned tired.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something, hiding behind a broken desk. _It couldn't be_- A flag! Yes, this was definitely what the Joker was looking for. She let out the breath she hadn't even been aware she was holding and gently picked up the item, as if she had just found a block of gold. But the battle was not won yet. By her watch she estimated there were around 35 minutes left of this 'game', and during that time, anyone could come and prise the flag from her hands and claim it as theirs. What to do...she supposed she could go back to where the Joker was and wait there...no, she couldn't bear to hang around there, with the Joker and his leering cronies. But if she stayed here, any of the other 15 people could easily come and snatch it from her. How much did she value her life? Was a significant chance of death better than having to spend 30 minutes in a room with the Joker? She decided to hedge her bets; so far, apart from to tease them, the Joker had spent very little time with his hostages and for once in her life, considering the Joker the lesser of two evils, headed back to the room she came from. After she had safely hidden the flag under her top, of course.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

After 25 minutes Father McDonald had found a flag, tucked under some boxes in one of the rooms on the first floor. As of yet, no one had bothered him for it. He had encountered the psychologist, Dr. Habberley, wandering round, his empty hands revealing he had yet to find a flag, an just from a moment, as he had looked at Father McDonald, his eyes had betrayed his true feelings; he really wanted that flag. But after a second, he composed himself, giving the priest a curt nod, and strolling past him, resisting the urge to grab the flag from the holy man's hands.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Alicia knew from the policeman's expression that this would be trouble. The older man's pale face tried to express calm and dignity but the drops of sweat trickling down his neck and his beady eyes narrowing at her conveyed what he really wanted to do. He had strolled over to her, noticing the flag she had tried to hide under her jacked, and spoken.

"Look Alicia, please be reasonable, do you really think you deserve that?" His eyes flickered to the flag like shape under her jacket, before she crossed her arms over it.

"What's it to you? Go find your own flag," She sneered. The man's nostrils flared but he quickly regained composure and spoke again.

"I served this city for 20 years, I helped keep these streets safe," He ignored Alicia's snort before continuing. "I've been married to my wife for 18 years, we have two children, look,"

He pulled a picture out from his pocket, flashing it in front of Alicia.

"There's Jason, he's 18, and here's Minnie, who's 16. Its her prom in 3 weeks. Do you want to be the one to explain to her why Daddy can't go?"

"Fuck you," She couldn't hide the contempt in her voice. "How do I know you haven't been on the mob's payroll for these last 10 years? How do I know you're not one of the reasons we're here right now?"

"Alicia-"

"Stay away from me," She hissed, swinging her arms out. His eyes narrowed, and any trace of friendliness in his expression disappeared as he suddenly lunged at her, reaching out desperately for the flag.

"Give it-to ...me!" He huffed, as she punched him in the jaw. He caught her by her neck, holding on tightly before she bit him, as hard as she could muster. He howled back in pain, and Alicia, seizing her chance, pulled down the boxes from the side of her and as they tumbled to the floor in front of her, turned round and sprinted as fast as she could in the other direction. She could hear him cursing behind her, trying to catch up with her but it was no use, she was gone.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_Oh God, oh God, what do I do now? _

He hadn't meant it, oh Jesus Christ he hadn't meant it. But there was 7 minutes to go and he was so _scared_ and she just walked right by, flag in hand, as if taunting him, teasing him. In reality she had no idea he was there, but he hadn't cared at the time. There was only the steady noise of a countdown in his head; _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_.

And then, before he knew it, as if on auto-pilot, he had grabbed the nearest heavy thing to him, this time being a stapler someone had left there, and had slammed it down on her head. He could still hear the sickening crunch as it struck her skull, and the dazed look in her eyes as she toppled to the floor, blood streaming down her face.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God. _

Tears sprang to his eyes as he contemplated what he had done. He wasn't a violent person, ask anyone, and had never wounded anything in his life beforehand, but now, in cold blood, he had struck down an innocent woman all so that he could live. But he couldn't dwell on that now. He bent down and took the flag from her cold hands and raced down the hallway he had come down, never once looking behind him.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_AN: More action, yay!_


	5. Chapter 5: May You Get What You Wish For

**Chapter 5 - May you get what you wish for.**

_"Every society gets the kind of criminal it deserves. What is equally true is that every community gets the kind of law enforcement it insists on,"_

_- Robert Kennedy, _

()()()()()()()

Bruce Wayne swore that he had spent most of the previous night pacing back and forth, contemplating what kind of action to take.

Because there was no question he was going to save them; he _had_ to save them. Otherwise, what would be the purpose of Batman, if he were to value his own life higher than others.

No, he had to do this. Batman had spent too long hiding, it was time to re-emerge, even at the risk of facing the public wrath and the fact that no one would ever truly trust him again, bar Gordon. That he was dealing with. No, the problem he was facing now was he had absolutely no idea as to where these hostages were. The only clue he had so far, that Gordon had kindly given him behind the backs of his colleagues, was a small bit of writing the Joker had scribbled on the bottom of the parcel containing the video he had sent. It had read;

'To B; hAVe yOu ReAd tHe LaBEl?'

Of course, the police had obviously deduced that the 'B' was Batman, and he was sure there were arguments among the rankings as to whether it should be shown to Batman at all. Gordon had relented though, against the orders of those around him, insisting that the Batman was the person it was intended for. That was all well and good, but it didn't mean _anything_. It wasn't a code, and yes, it produced countless anagrams but none that were of any real use, just nonsense saying such as 'A Valuable Heed Theory', which meant absolutely nothing. None of them translated into street names or coordinates, they meant _nothing_. Nor when the letters were linked to numbers did it become anything substantial. He had run it through the computer so many times, desperately searching for some sort of pattern, but nada. By this point he had actually begun to contemplate whether this really just was a random saying written by the Joker, with absolutely no meaning at all. He wouldn't put it past the clown to be honest; Gordon had recently said to him that that was to be expected, and that the police had consulted the psychologists at Arkham and they had agreed with him, that this was another game Batman was being lured into by the Joker, and the words on the paper meant nothing at all.

He hated to say it, but it was all a fucking _joke_ to him(pun intended).

Alfred of course was being as curious as ever. As Batman had slaved over every inch of this cryptic clue, Alfred had merely stated;

"The Joker is an unusual man, so look at it in an unusual way,"

Of course he hadn't cared to elaborate on it, and quite frankly, at this point Bruce simply did not have the time to sit and ponder. Action had to be taken, swiftly. Otherwise, who knew what might happen to the people at the mercy of the Joker, though usually, that meant the whole of Gotham. Because everyone knew the Joker had them all right under his thumb.

()()()()()()()()()()

Rose was pretty sure she had checked the clock 30 times in the last few minutes. A few times she had even checked the clock to see how much time had passed since she had last checked the clock. It wasn't out of boredom, or the willing for time to pass quicker, no; she was simply desperately trying to avoid the Joker's gaze, whose eyes flickered to her every few minutes. It wasn't out of preference for her; she was simply by this point the only hostage who had returned, leaving her feeling like the sole lamb amidst a pack of hungry wolves.

Having practically run back from the crook of the building in which she'd found the tattered flag, Rose had stumbled upon the Joker and his cronies watching a small TV screen in the corner. Well, she said 'watching', the Joker appeared to be laughing his menacing laugh in a hysterical manner at whatever was on the screen while his goons stood gingerly two feet back, craning their necks to watch but not daring to give any sort of reaction should their necks be snapped as a response. She had attempted to slip in behind them unnoticed and just place herself in the corner of the room but, hah, no such luck, but she supposed she should have guessed. Every man in the room turned to look at her, including the Joker, who simply raised a painted eyebrow before turning back to the evidently more interesting screen. A few followed his lead, clearly trying to remain in the Joker's good books (_But did he even have one_?) However a few kept their eyes on her as she slid down onto the floor, leaning back against the wall, but staring down at her hands in her lap, allowing her hair to fall in her face. She could still feel their eyes on her, roving all over her figure, violating her some what. In any other situation she most likely would have stormed off but that wasn't exactly an option here.

Luckily for her, though she was unsure as to whether 'lucky' was an appropriate term, the Joker quickly noticed their almost leering gestures and put a finite stop to it, by stabbing one appreciative man right in the family jewels.

_Ow_.

Needless to say, the men quickly diverted their eyes back to the TV screen, the howls of the man writhing on the floor from his quite unorthodox castration convincing enough. She debated saying 'thank you' for a brief moment, but decided the last thing Rose wanted to do was engage the Joker in conversation. One lucky man was appointed guard, who was supposed to keep watch and make sure Rose wasn't planning on making a break for it but having swiftly realized Rose wasn't going anywhere, had returned his attention back to the TV screen. Now that all attention was directed away from her, apart from the Joker's few quick glances every now and then to make sure she wasn't doing something she shouldn't, Rose was now fully able to look at her captors, without the constraints of fearing for her life, as she really hoped that the Joker was truly a man of his word, and she realized some of the men were even younger than her. Yesterday, all of the men had been wearing black ski masks bar one, but now all of them were going around barefaced, for all the hostages to see. Rose supposed this was because they thought that at the end of this 'ordeal', none of them would be alive to tell the tale and catch them out. She shuddered at the thought.

The ages varied however; Rose estimated the eldest to be in his 40s while the youngest appeared to be barely older than 20. Some had large disfigurations on their faces; one man had scars all down his neck while another had burns all over his mature face. Whether these were caused by the Joker or inflicted some other way, she couldn't tell, but either way, they looked painful. Never the less she couldn't have such a detailed look at their scars as each of them was facing the TV, their backs to her. What was on that TV, anyhow? She highly doubted the Joker and his men were engrossed in an episode of FRIENDS, despite how much the Joker was cackling. Craning her neck, she could barely see past the shoulders of the men. The quality was bad, whatever it was; it was terrible fuzzy. She still had no idea what they were all so focused on, but, unfortunately, someone else took notice of this too.

"Why gentlemen! Look how terribly _rude _we've been not giving the little lady a look see. D'ya want to watch, dollface?"

Her attempts to protest were futile as the Joker was over to her in 2 strides, clasping her forearm tightly and pulling her onto her feet. He was much rougher than any of his henchmen had been; probably because he faced no repercussions should he damage her in anyway. The leather glove felt like it was burning her skin through the thin, cotton shirt she was wearing, like searing hot fire was engulfing her arm. It was excruciating. Not that he cared.- Having hauled her viciously to her feet, he dragged her over to the TV screen, placing his hands on the underside of her jaw, locking her in position, while his other hand tilted her head slightly back so she got a full view of whatever they were watching. Unable to move her head and fearing what might happen should she shut her eyes, Rose focused her eyes on the screen in front of her. Now closer, she could tell her confusion previously had been partly attributed to the fact it wasn't one screen but four. They all looked like surveillance tapes...filming somewhere very familiar.

_The bastard's planted hidden cameras in the building, I knew it! _

And sure enough, there they were, chronicling the every move of the terrified hostages as they ran up and down the halls, fear quite plainly etched on their faces. So that is what they had all been laughing at before. The Joker's hands still kept Rose's face locked in place so she could see everything happen on the screen; she saw the psychologist walk tentatively past the priest, she saw one of the cops argue with Alicia Gilbert about her flag before a fight broke out and she ran away. A few minutes were spent like this, her jaw becoming very painful indeed, when something on the screen caught their attention that made Rose glad there was no sound emanating from them.

It began with the young teacher walking along the corridor, tightly clutching that damn white flag in her head, with the same nervous look on her face as always. She was pacing slightly faster than usual, and unbeknownst to Rose had been heading in their direction. Suddenly, a figure came into view behind her, their face not visible due to the angle of the camera, but before anyone could react the figure snuck up behind the teacher and - **bam**! The teacher fell to the ground, as limp as a dishcloth, her limbs spreading out awkwardly on the floor. Rose gasped but any sound she made was muffled by the loud guffawing of the Joker and his men, who decided to take a risk and join in on his extremely loud laughter. The camera angle meant whoever the culprit was, their face remained hidden as they knelt behind the body and, having snatched the white flag out of the teacher's hands, and sprinted down the corridor. It was obviously an impromptu attack as whoever the culprit was they kept _running_ and _running_ and _running_, not looking back once. Rose could tell though, the build of the body was male and relatively young and slim, but that narrowed it down to around 3 people, and with this low quality camera, it was near impossible to tell. But just the very thought that someone could do that to another human being sent shudders down her spine. Of course she had contemplated that in this, shall we say, fraught and _tense_ environment someone might snap, but to see it in plain sight...it just served as a painful reminder that they really were no better than savages.

(_And they were no better than the Joker too_)

Fortunately, as the Joker laughed, or maybe cackled was the more appropriate term, and barked orders at his henchmen, his grip had loosened on Rose's head and she was able to slip free, running her hands tentatively along the underside of her jaw as she felt where he had gripped the hardest. They would no doubt bruise, but to be honest, that was the least of her problems. It seemed time had flown, and a few more hostages were gathering in the room. They were all just as terrified as Rose, huddling together at the back of the room, like cowering children, not daring to come any closer, but waving their white flags in their shaky hands.

Of course, the Joker, lord of all that is chaos and mayhem, noticed Rose had slipped out of his grasp and saw an opportunity to mess with someone's mind even more. Standing close behind her, so close she could smell his rancid breath on her neck, he watched as the hostages entered, giving her a sort of running commentary as they walked in.

"Now, lets see, it could be him...," He pointed with his gloved finger at the lawyer who stood awkwardly to the side, warily eyeing one of the gun's a goon was pointing at him. "He looks, uh, nervous, or I suppose it could be her..."

Rose kept in her small sigh of relief at the fact the mother had made it through the 'first round', as she had heard a few henchmen call it. Sydney was still holding her hand, tucking her head under the woman's arm in a small attempt to seek some maternal comfort despite the fact neither had met each other before this, er..._experience_.

"...but that would just be too uh, cruel wouldn't it? No, if I were a gambling man, which I have to say is one of the few ah, _vices _I don't succumb to, but no, if I were that kind of man, I would put my money on either him..."

His hand hovered briefly over the lawyer.

"...or maybe its him,"

Now the psychologist, whose eyes widened when he saw the Joker was pointing directly at him.

"...or it could just be sweet old Jason over there who battered poor Miss Teacher,"

The student was were his finger finally rested on. Rose hated to admit it, but she held similar suspicions; they were the only ones who fit the criteria provided, but something inside just pained her to think about it.

"**You decide**," the Joker whispered to her before giving her a very hard shove towards the other hostages in the other corner of the room. A few looked looked at her with anger and suspicion of course; they hadn't caught the first part of the conversation and from their perspective, all they had seen was the Joker pointing at some of them in turn and then whispering in her ear. She was in too minds whether to tell them or not; if she did, suspicions would be rife among them but if she didn't, it would almost be like she was siding with him, which she most certainly did not want to do. She had met insanity before and now it was here again, in plain sight.

And it was terrifying.

()()()()()()()

They first received pictures of Miss. Swift, the primary school teacher, and her corpse, later that day.

Unusually, for the Joker, they weren't the most horrifying pictures one had ever seen; from the looks of it Miss. Swift hadn't even been mutilated at all by him, no bones appeared to be broken, only her throat was cut and there was significant bruising on her forehead, most likely in conjunction with being hit with a heavy object.

But that wasn't the only gift the Gotham PD received that day.

At precisely 7:42 in the evening, outside the the downtown branch of 'Conning & Conning', a legal firm, body of the judge was found by a passing dogwalker, hanging from a window.

Or maybe body wasn't the right word; it was debatable as to whether there was enough left of the corpse to call him that. His stomach had been cut open, and his guts had poured out in the street below along with other...bodily fluids. His mouth had been maimed, a perfect Glasgow grin carved onto his face, and many of his bones broken. The actual cause of death was near impossible to identify.

And behind him, in a suspicious red liquid, someone had written:

"**_Won't the Batman come out and play_**?"


	6. Chapter 6: The Joker's Wild

**_Chapter 6 - You've got Geography, Fast Forward Presidents, and a Joker!_**

_My brain thinks bomb like. _

They had all been aligned up against the wall, reminiscent of some old hollywood mobster movie, except the fear was evident on all their faces, as they tentatively stuck out their white flags, the only thing keeping them alive.

A few of his men had been sent off to find the teacher and bring her back; the first casualty of the day. They had all been holding their breaths when some other goons reemerged, some few minutes later, with the trembling judge in their hands.

"We found him hiding in one of the offices upstairs boss," The first one spoke, smiling eerily, like a hungry crocodile. "Cowering like a little girl,"

"I just...couldn't find the flag...," The judge's voice trailed off, so feeble and barely audible it appeared he had resigned to his fate already. The Joker for a few moments didn't react, revelling in the toxic atmosphere of fear he had created. (_For it is universally known that, the one thing that unites all criminals, is a strong love of power and control they have over others_). Alicia held her breath, but also, deep down, the cold hearted journalist in her couldn't help but notice that she was about to witness an actual Joker killing. Sure, by this point most of Gotham had witnessed the aftermaths of one of his stunts, such as seen the remnants of a building blown to hell, or heard his voice on the TV, but very few had seen the man this close and lived to tell the tale. But, she had to contemplate, she hadn't quite got out of this alive yet. Who knew where Batboy was, or what he was doing about this, but she had to remain positive. If she escaped this, and God knows, she would do everything in her power to ensure it, she would be the number one reporter in Gotham; a journalist who had actually met the Joker himself, and lived.

She continued watching with bated breath as the Joker stared at the trembling man in front of him; someone who was once so powerful reduced to a sobbing infant by the mere presence of another man. To Alicia this man was..._unhuman_...No, no that wasn't quite the right word, no, you could tell by his presence he was very much human, just in a different sense. As if he had been created differently, as if someone had chopped up all the pieces of the human condition, turned them upside down and pieced them back together again. He had some very human qualities; anger, happiness (If you could call it that), _passion_. It may not be passion as they knew it but passion none the less. A passion for all things destructive; a passion that could only truly be instigated by the presence of another man, Batman. For to destroy you need someone to create but similarly, to create you need someone to destroy. That would be Gotham's ultimate downfall; the unwillingness of the two men to kill one another.

So the strange group of citizens watched as the Joker leant down and whispered something in the Judge's ear, something inaudible to the rest of them. They watched as he removed a knife from his coat, and slit the man's throat in front of their very eyes.

And all of them deemed it to be an experience they would never be able to forget, no matter how much they wanted to.

()()()()()()()()()()()

Once again they'd been trooped back into the vans, gagged and blindfolded again. The Joker did not come with them; he had remained behind with the corpse of the judge, circling it, like it were a piece of art work, before barking indistinguishable commands to his henchmen. Another way they knew was, there was a very different atmosphere among his henchmen when he wasn't there. Of course the fear was still there; fear that they might mess up their orders or make any sort of trivial mistake. But they bantered among each other, shoved the hostages around a bit, roughened them up.

But when the Joker was around, their fear was much more tangible. Father O'Donald had been around the scared and the frightened before, every time he held confession, and the fear of these men towards their boss was so strong you could almost taste it. None of them appeared close to him, apart from one man, who judging by his gait was elder than all the rest, and held with some respect by the rest of the goons. Though that may be something to do with his appearance; the man, who some of the other men called Lorca, was an intimidating man. The upper left side of his face had been severely burned, quite some time ago, and now as time ravaged his face, the skin seemed to wither and droop, giving the impression that his face was slowly crumbling to pieces. Father O'Donald did not wish to judge by appearances, or by the superficial, but he wished to avoid this man at all cost.

They had been marched back into the same dilapidated house they had arrived in, and once again shoved into their respective rooms. Silence over took them; none of them really wanted to talk about what had happened previously that day. 'Lunch' was brought in; it was nothing more than scraps of meat, some stale bread and some water. Sydney, the young girl, was the worst of them all; her face blanched and pale, her whole being trying to comprehend something that no child should have to comprehend. She sat timidly next to Rose's knee, as she kept her brown eyes on the floor, slowly chewing the morsels Rose handed her.

"Come on Sydney, you have to keep your strength up," The young girl's eyes flickered up at the mention of her name, but she still didn't say anything.

"Here, five more pieces of ham, and then you're done, OK?"

Still the young girl didn't speak. The mother, whose name was still unknown, moved closer to Sydney, placing a bare, trembling hand on her knee.

"Now, Sydney, you need to eat. What would your mommy and daddy say if they knew you weren't eating all your food right now, sweetheart? They wouldn't be too happy," The woman's voice was calm and soft. "This lady here's a doctor, she'll tell you how important it is that you eat,"

"I want Mr. Rabbit,"

Every woman's head turned as the whispered words emerged from the girls throat, words which seemed so reluctant to emerge.

"What?" Alicia replied, quite bluntly.

"Mr. Rabbit. He was in my school bag. He'll be lost and scared without me,"

There was silence again, as each debated what to tell the younger girl about her missing rabbit.

"I'll ask," Rose said softly, moving towards the door. As if by instinct, all others retreated back, like it was best to put a safe distance between them and whoever was behind the door. Hesitantly, Rose knocked on the locked door. No reply. She knocked once more, this time louder. There was a pause, before a voice called out from the other side.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Can, erm, can we..." How could she phrase this..."Do you still have our bags and our stuff?"

"Why the hell do you need to know?"

"I just...do you still have Sydney's bag?"

"Look lady, I don't give a fuck about what you're looking for. Just sit back down and shut up," The gruff voice came back again, his voice more angry and definite. Alicia huffed, hauling herself up off the floor and banging harsh on the door.

"Hey, asshole! We're talking to you here, open the goddamn door!"

As the mother quickly slipped her hands over Sydney's ears, the door creaked open, and the first thing visible was the looming gun in the goons right hand, waving menacingly.

"If you don't shut up, maybe I'll have to _make_ you..."

While Rose instinctively took a step back, Alicia held her ground, ignoring her trembling knees. She had seen enough cocky men using guns to intimidate that she knew how to cope with it relatively well now.

"Oh sure, I'm sure that'll be a fun conversation, you explaining to your boss why his _whole_ plan is ruined. Go ahead, I'm sure that'll go well for you," The goons eyes narrowed and the gun remained firmly pointed at Alicia but his gait slackened and he let out an audible sigh.

"Look, what the fuck do you want?"

"S-Sydney's stuffed toy rabbit," Rose said, trying to make her voice wobble as much. "She says its in her school bag that was on her at the time,"

"If I get you this fucking rabbit, will you all shut up?"

Every woman in the room nodded eagerly, just willing to get the man with the gun in his hand as far away from them as possible.

"Deal," Alicia replied, her voice strong and unwavering, Rose noted. The man, his face still twisted into an angry snarl, stormed back out again, giving the door a very loud slam.

A few minutes later the man reemerged, the pink fluffy bunny in his hand, an image of ironic contrasts; a man whose boss's temper was so volatile he could turn around and kill them all in one swoop, holding a young child's toy rabbit in one hand and a loaded gun in the other. Rose couldn't tell what that signified; whether in every evil man there was some good too, or whether in every good man, evil was lodged in their hearts. As the girl was handed her rabbit, going back to her position cowering against the wall, the frayed edges of her jeans sprayed every so slightly with blood, she couldn't help but think it was the latter.

()()()()()()()()()()()

The waiting, Robert determined. The waiting was the worst part. Just sitting in the room, unaware of their fate. No idea of how long they would be here; their saviours could be 5 minutes away or 5 days. Or death could be even closer, beating them to it. None of the men spoke; a few words at spoke. Oh, how he missed May at moments like this; she always knew just what to do. Like when she should shush him and comfort him and tell him everyone else was a bastard, or when she should just get her tits out. That's how a woman's supposed to be.

_Fuck_. He didn't deserve to me. He always stayed on the right side of the law, stayed clear of trouble; there were moves made for him maybe to become a mob lawyer a few years back but no sir, he stayed on the clean side. And this was his reward? Fuck them all to hell. Everyone knew the Gotham police force was shot to hell; half of them were corrupt and the other half were just banging their heads against a brick wall.

All of a sudden, there was a bang on the door, causing all the men to jump back in fright, edging closer to the other side of the room. It was a henchman, his black ski mask on once again, and he didn't speak, but simply raised his finger to point at the student, who was cowering in the corner.

"M-m-me?" He asked, voice trembling. The goon didn't speak, but simply hauled the man off the floor and dragged him to the hallway, where another goon was waiting.

The rest of the men watched, feeling powerless to help. They wanted to get involved, but their bodies wouldn't move, their lips wouldn't speak in support of the scared young student being dragged out of the room. Because, Robert supposed, any sort of pity or outrage you felt at the injustice was quickly overriden by relief that it wasn't happening to _you_.

()()()()()()()()()()()

Trudy didn't know quite how to react.

She didn't know whether to scream or to cry or whether to remain completely solemn, like a prisoner being lead to the firing squad. Because that was precisely what was happening here. In some shape or another, she was being lead to her doom. Oh why had no one listened to her earlier? Everyone was so unwilling, too scared to act. This madman was like a rabid dog, and he should receive the same treatment all rabid dogs do; to be put down.

The room she had been lead to appeared to be like any other in the building, except it had the smell of being recently cleaned, giving it a cold, clinical feeling. There was one small, fold up table in the centre, with three seats around it. One was already occupied; the student, trembling so badly the whole table shook, was sat there, staring at her. His brown eyes were filled with tears; clearly he understood the gravity of the situation just as well as she did.

_They were going to die. _

She was ushered roughly into the seat opposite the student, so that there was no where else to look. The third person had yet to join them, poor soul. Lord have mercy on whoever it was. But, sitting down, a matter of greater importance caught her eye; on the table, right in the middle, were two loaded guns. Trudy had no idea what type or make they were; she had never fired a gun in her life. Hated the things. Her brother was once caught up in the one of those gangs; it hadn't ended well. Weapons of destruction and death; things whose sole purpose was to wound or kill.

What kind of sick freak would give them a loaded gun? 2 for that matter? So they could end it all themselves?

She would _never_ stoop so low.

"_Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman_,"

Suddenly there came a voice that was enough to send her mind into disarray, to send shivers down her spine. A voice which was now ingrained into Gotham's collective conscious. Why was it Gotham that always drew in the costumed freaks? They were like moths to a flame, she thought bitterly.

Keeping an eye on the Joker out of the corner of her eye, not wishing to make direct contact with him, Trudy watched as he sat himself in the third seat, looking eager eyed at both of them.

"So, I was thinking, maybe we could play a _game_"

He was met by frightened silence.

"Now now, don't be shy!" His voice was so strange, noted Trudy. Both high and giggly yet menacing and mercurial too. It wasn't right, no, stratch that, he himself wasn't right, at all. "Alright then, I'll start, shall I?"

Trudy could barely look the young student in the eye. He looked like he might keel over at any moment, like his heart might just stop out of fright. They both jumped out of their skin as the Joker began to move the guns around on the table, his movements erratic and listless. He pushed a gun over to each person.

Trudy eyed the gun warily out of the corner of her eye. What if she...no, no, she couldn't...but he was just there next to her, completely unsuspecting.

But she couldn't shoot the Joker, she didn't have a chance; his reflexes were much too fast and before she could even pull the trigger he would have slit her throat and besides, if she even could fire it, no doubt it would miss and then there would be no chance of getting out of this alive. No, she had to hold steady, see this thing out. She had dealt with plenty of cut throat politicians before, this would be a piece of cake in comparison. Or so she kept telling herself.

Suddenly, the Joker pulled something out of his pocket. Her heart leapt out of her skin, thinking it might be a knife, but strangely enough it was two music players, and one was pushed over to Trudy, while the other was given to the student.

"Now boys and girls," His voice was patronizing, like some sort of twisted game show host speaking to a bunch of infants. "I'd like you to put your headphones in. Can you do that for me? But don't press play just...yet,"

With shaking hands, the two slid the earphones into the ears, looking with trepidation at their captor.

"Now, listen to me, the challenge is simple; I'd like you to, uh, keep your earphones in as long as possible, folks, or the first one that takes them off becomes better acquainted with my good, uh, friend over here..." At this, a long, sleek knife emerged from his pocket. (_How many pockets did this man have?_)

The student and Trudy shared a befuddled glance. Listen to something? That's all they had to do? That seemed straightforward enough...

"_But_," The Joker's voice rang loud and clear. "There is a chance to double your money. As you may have accurately observed, you have a gun each. Now, should one of you decide to...end the life of your opponent, I'll let that person walk free. Though you might not want to hang around as you only get one shot,"

The meaning of his words suddenly began to sink in...Shoot someone? She couldn't! But could he? With all this gang culture among the youths today, who knew what the young man across from her was capable of. Though judging by his quaking frame, she didn't think he was up to much.

"'Try to roll a double, it'll keep you out of trouble'" The Joker leant back in his chair, his face in a somewhat neutral expression, if the grotesque smile on his face could ever be considered 'neutral' and gestured for the two to put their headphones on. They did so willingly, wondering what the hell they were about to listen to. Creepy clown music? Trudy had no idea what psychopaths listened to these days. Each also took their gun into their hands, looking down at the thing as if it were burning their skin.

The moment she put her headphones on, a whimpering voice could be heard in the background, slightly muffled. A strange smell engulfed in the room. Her heart began to pound viciously, like she was on a speeding train that just wouldn't stop. Suddenly the voice in the background became crystal clear.

"Trudy, trudy, where, where are you, I miss you, just call me..."

_Oh God. _

It was Matthew. It was clearly recent, a message he had probably left on her mobile when she failed to come home when the Joker held her hostage.

"_You've been gone for a while now...I know we've had our rough moments, but please, please don't end it like this..._"

His voice was like a stab to the chest. She would have ripped the headphones from her ears had she not heeded the Joker's earlier warning. The student across from her appeared to be suffering a similar dilemma, a thousand emotions flickering across his face as he listened to his own recording.

Suddenly, a new voice appeared, while Matthew's voice faded into the background, his trembling voice still audible. Trudy could suddenly hear the crisp, cold voice of her own mother. A mother who had been dead 10 years.

"_Always was a useless little girl, never could get anything done.._"

The message was from 15 years ago, a voicemail left by her mother during one of their rows. Their rows were never serious, most of the time it was just her mother's way of giving her a kick up the backside, but now, in this new context, those words took on a different meaning.

"._..Failure, after failure. You just let people walk all over you, you're never going to succeed in anything are you..._"

_Shut up. _

_"I miss you, Trudy, come home..._" Matthew's tormented voice came out behind the harsh tone of her mother's. The two intermingled together, like voices chanting, which combined with her sudden racing heart and sweaty palms, caused her head to spin. Why couldn't they just be _quiet_.

A new voice joined the chorus; her father's.

"_Come on Trudy, you can do better. You can always do better. You could do anything if you set your mind to it...winning is what's important...you gotta learn how to win_"

The voice was from one of their home videos, when she was 7 and her poor dad was trying to teach her how to play baseball. Needless to say she could never hit the ball quite right. However, it suddenly seemed like her father was talking to her, urging her on, whispering in her ear.

"_...The only person in your way is you, Trudy. Come on you can do it.._."

"._..Failure, that's all you are.._."

"_...Trudy, just come back, we'll work all of this out and it'll be great again.._."

"_...Aunt Trudy, when are you coming home?.._."

_Too much, too much. Just stop talking, stop talking. Make it stop. Make them go away. How do you make them go away. _

She wanted to end this torment but she didn't want to die. Oh, no she wasn't going to die. She was a _winner_. She'd make Gotham see the extent of her mercy. She'd strap the Joker into the electric chair herself. She'd even pull the lever. Why should anyone get in her way...

"..._Coward_..."

Her heart pounded in her chest as her fingers slid over the rifle, feelings it cold, smooth curve.

"..._I miss you_..."

I miss you too, Matthew.

".._.You can do it_..."

Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking.

"..._You're the bestest, Aunt Trudy_,"

Adrenaline soared through her veins, fear kept her mind racing, and her eyes were so blurred she could barely see. All she could hear were the voices. Too many voices. How easy would it be to make them stop. Just pull the trigger.

"..._You're a winner Trudy..._"

Bang.

"...Don't you forget it,"

The student's body slumped to the table, blood trickling down from his head onto his neck, then dripping onto the floor. His skin was pale, lips parted, as if in the last few moments of his short, tender life he had seen something that had truly shocked him. He still looked so ...life like. Like, if all the bits of blood and broken flesh around his face, vanished it would just look like he was sleeping. Like he was deep in soft sleep. His face twisted and turned in her mind; suddenly his smile looked like a frown, before it changed back again, into that plain expression that had been on his face.

Suddenly she was woken from her reverie by the slow clap of the Joker, his eyes glinting as if he had known what would happen all the time.

"Well, Miss Steadman, I didn't think you had it in you. So, how does it feel to have taken a life now, since you so vigorously campaigned that my own should be, ah, taken away. Is it how you hoped?"

Trudy didn't answer. Her body felt numb, her voice raw in her mouth. All she could do was rip those stupid earphones away from her. Finally, they stopped talking.

"Any last words?" The Joker's voice was now deeper, and more vicious.

Suddenly Trudy's gaze shifted, looking at him imploringly. He had said he wasn't going to kill her, he has said so, he couldn't go back on his word now, he couldn't!

"Fine," The Joker spoke dismissively, prying the second gun from the dead man's finger tips. "Oh, and, wave hello to Gordon, won't you?"

And as the Joker walked right out of the room, not giving a second glance to the slumped over body on the table, Trudy looked over to the opposite corner of the room, where there stood a gleaming, white video camera.

A/N: _My apologies for the late update! I have just been completely lacking in motivation recently, its awful. Ugh, this chapter! For a while I had complete writer's block, but then I suddenly got a few ideas regarding the end of this chapter. However I've rewritten and edited it so many times...nightmare! But thank you very much for the reviews! I truly appreciate them._

_Btw, just to clear a few things up in this chapter:_

_- The gas Trudy can smell is a low dose of Crane's fear toxin. Its being used here to heighten their emotions, like giving them an adrenaline kick, making them scared, but not so much that they start reaalllyyy freaking out!_


End file.
